


I hate you because I loved you and I ate you

by scheelite



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Harrow the Ninth Spoilers (Locked Tomb Trilogy), harrow remembers everything, post-GtN, sleepy harrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheelite/pseuds/scheelite
Summary: How Harrow the Ninth could have started if our girl wasn’t (completely) batshit crazy.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	I hate you because I loved you and I ate you

**Author's Note:**

> This very short fic was written in an unsuccessful attempt to purge this book from my brain. Enjoy!

For the first time since opening the tomb, Harrowhark had what could be described as a normal circadian sleep pattern. This wasn’t born of any desire to be healthy; she slept only to escape the misery of cognizance. For Harrow, eight hours of sleep was a preposterous waste of time.

Three nights after the death of her cavalier (24 hours of unconsciousness!), Harrow woke up and drifted to the bathroom. She applied her skull, not because she intended to leave her chambers, but for a fleeting sense of normalcy. Even with a cloth draped over the mirror, muscle memory guided her hands flawlessly. If they shook, they had the decency to start after releasing the brush.

Perhaps she had judged flesh too harshly in the past. After all, there was very little else holding her together. It only reminded her of—

_One Flesh, One End_

Nope. Scratch that. Harrow fucking abhorred flesh.

She stormed to her desk, sweeping the heap of flimsy into a wastebasket. Ianthe’s opposition had rendered the letters useless. She was now unwillingly on the path to proper Lyctorhood. As much as she despised flesh magic, flesh adepts were inarguably worse.

Looking down, she saw a certain pair of oversized sunglasses peeking out from underneath the flimsy. They must have fallen out of their letter. Harrowhark tapped the bin with her boot, burying the glasses under shifting envelopes. The Body raised her eyebrows beside Harrow in askance.

“Shut up”

It was blasphemy, but she could care less.

Ten minutes later, Harrow found herself gently tucking those ludicrous sunglasses under a pair of inky leggings for safekeeping.

***

It was only after another wasteful eight hours that Harrow found the courage to face her Lyctorhood. With a bare face and sleep in her eyes, she gingerly removed the cloth obscuring the mirror. Her reflected eyes were shockingly dark. She backpedalled in a panic, falling backwards into the bathtub. With shaking arms, she pushed herself back up; this time, the mirror’s clean, alien face had a Lyctor’s eyes: one black, one gold. Griddle had been unbearably right.

She projected her thoughts towards the golden eye. _Her_ golden eye now, although it didn’t feel that way. _I completely fucking hate you_. It didn’t respond.

That wasn’t true anyway, at least not anymore. _I loved you_. Was that accurate? She certainly hadn’t done a good job of showing it.

_I ate you_ — Finally, an indisputable truth. It defined her only path forward.

The eye silently blinked in tandem with Harrow as she repainted her face. Pausing first in the doorway, she returned to her wardrobe to retrieve Griddle’s old sunglasses. She slid them on her face. They were a little too big. They kept sliding down her nose. She had to bend the hooks behind the ears to make them stay.

With her eyes safely hidden, she left her chambers on the _Erebos_ in search of God.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've been confident enough to publish. I apologize for the heartbreaking bits.


End file.
